SO DONE YOU JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO
SAY IT?

Welcome to the best new way to break the news. [No not Springer.] The Un-Personals. Read on, there are newly single people here waiting to be yours:

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TO: Lizabeth
FROM: Jennifer

Dear Lizabeth, I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast. You know I hate plums. I just did it out of spite.

Jennifer

 

TO: Ronnie
FROM: Sparrow

Dear Ronnie,

I'm sorry. I really like you, but my ferret doesn't. Que sera, sera.

Farewell until the next life,

Sparrow

 

TO: Nimrod
FROM: Simone

Dear Nimrod,

I lied about your name. Your parents obviously hated you on sight, and took preemptive action to drive you away. It eventually worked and I ended up with you, telling you that your name was "unique" and "special" and "Biblical." Well, it is, and appropriate in that it also describes what I have come to know that you are: a nimrod and a Nimrod.

I'm afraid I must leave you to walk alone through the Valley of the Shadow of your retro '80s pants, your retro '80s hair, and your retro '80s whining. Name changes have a reasonable price. It's worth it. But don't call me even if you do update your look and your schtick and your name, because you will still have to say to me, "It's Richard, I believe you know me as Nimrod." And I will have to say to you, "Nimrod, you've changed your name to Dick. Don't call here again." Putting us both right back where we are. With me giving you the kiss off without even sparing a kiss goodbye.

Au Revoir PeeWee,

Simone

 

TO: John Smith
FROM: Sally Down Under

Dear John, it's not working out, I am running off to Brazil with Juan. Movers will pick up the furniture next week. Love and Kisses. Sally.

 

TO: Enrique Arinas
FROM: Amy

Dear Enrique,

You might think you are being very clever bringing spicy tuna roll home from your fishing trip or that I am some sort of fool who doesn't notice when you come home reeking of Paco Rabane and hair gel. Am I supposed to not notice how tight your "fishing buddy" Enrique wears his trousers? (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) I am here to tell you that Cindy Crawford Calendar from 1988 is not fooling anyone. And that, no, none of my male friends are that enthusiastic about Madame Sousatzka being released on DVD. Enclosed please find your Cher CDs. Your wardrobe is somewhere in the pool area.

Cordially,

Amy

 

TO: Bob Chris
FROM: Debbie

Dear Bob, I hate you you scum sucking pig I hope you die in an unpleasant building fire I'm moving my shoes.

P.S. the dog hates you too.

Debbie

 

TO: Maxetta Belle
FROM: TTM

Dear Maxetta,

While I was gone on my trip to Yugoslavia to sell surplus eight track tape machines and disco music, you got a big brown french poodle because you were lonely. Now he's gone. All you do is cry because the only thing the dog left behind were his curly poodle hairs that I found in the bed. You said he ran off right before I came home and now you're mad at me because of it so I went out looking for him and none of the neighbors I asked ever saw a poodle at all. Well, this is like deja dŽjˆ vu and I never liked a poodle for that same reason, they run off. My last girlfriend had this happen to her too. I bet it was the same dog.

Anyway baby, I guess this is good-bye because when I came home tonight I found poodle hairs in the bathtub drain and my wallet's gone and so are you. I know this letter will probably never reach you and your french poodle addressed to General Delivery, but I wanted to write just in case to let you know that as much as I dig you, I'm moving on. Yes, it's true, I found a new girl. One who swears she doesn't like dogs, especially poodles. I know what we had was special but it's over now.

Yours truly,

TTM

 

TO: Spencer
FROM: Wendy

Dear Spencer, I know I said it was "normal" and "happens all the time," but I lied. 27 is too old to be bringing your blanky-wanky to bed. Gross. ...

PS - And while we're at it, it is not sexy that your mom sews your name into all your underwear, either.

Wendy

 

TO: Bob Chris
FROM: Becca

Dear Bob Chris, you sound great! compared to the loser I'm with now (John Schmidt). Wanna hook up?

- Becca (I'll see you in the personals)

 

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